Published Spring/Summer 2008
 
A Crazy Sunday
by Emanuel Mitchell | ns 70
A childhood friend of mine named Lawrence had told me to come to his house that rainy Sunday. I usually didn't go over there except when we walked home from school together. From time to time I would stop over and play Atari.
I could have been no more than nine years old and walking up the street was an adventure. Though Sunday mornings were always quiet, the silence was broken by dogs barking at passing people and cars hitting potholes. In the middle of the block was Johnson Park. On weekends the whole neighborhood was in the park and all the partying, arguing, and loud music from fancy cars poured into the street. The nightlife always led to violence. Fist fights and gangs piling up on one man marked the apex of the evening. The occasional shooting, people scattering in panic, tripping over one another made me afraid but curious about their freedom and pain. Even if it wasn't a violent weekend there was always so much noise that the police would roll down the street with their cherries on, telling people to go home or go to jail. Whenever it got hectic outside, my grandmother told me to come inside. Then I would run to the window wishing I were older.
Sunday morning was quiet and I was free to move up and down the street. I walked with a bop as though the street was as full as the night before. Poverty and ignorance left their marks on the street: garbage, broken bottles, and bullet casings. A light drizzle made the atmosphere smell of the damp burnt wood of abandoned houses, bringing to life the tags spray-painted along the street, tags like G-Ward, Low-Life, Killer Mike. I understand now why young men rename themselves. Young men feel out of place with the names their mothers gave them, names that don't mirror how they feel and the circumstances they live in.
- - - - - You could tell Lawrence's house from any house on the street. It was the only one that had a bunch of cats sitting on the porch. Lawrence had about six cats of his own that wandered the streets bringing other cats back to the house. We used to search around for kittens that Lawrence's mother, Miss Claudia, would hear crying at night. There were odors that would turn out to be dead kittens under the house. I was amazed they could pick out distinct smells because the house always smelled horrible. The dirty clothes lying around were mildewed; the smells of bad food seeped from the refrigerator. The toilet didn't flush and it seemed they were just too lazy to fill up buckets of water to flush it. The tub was never clean. All I can say is that house was a bad reality show.
As I approached the house through a cold drizzle I saw Miss Claudia sitting on the porch. Miss Claudia was not a very good-looking person; in fact she was ugly. She was light skinned and had very bad acne, and dark bruises from picking at her face. She was missing teeth and barely had any hair. Fat and nasty, her sagging breasts hung out the bottom of the lime-green shirt she always wore. I remember once the police were called to her house for indecent exposure. Miss Claudia's argument was that they needed to close their muthafuckin' eyes and that it was her body.
The house didn't have any steps to get onto the porch. Instead they had a milk crate you could stand on to jump onto the porch in a sitting position. The railing was still there, but just hanging into the air. You could see clear under the house.
Miss Claudia held a cigarette in one hand, scratching with the other. She was swinging her legs where the steps once stood and a cat was rubbing up against her. Seeing me approach triggered her frustration and she hit the cat with a hard right. I saw the cat flying up against the wall and taking off running.
"Goddamn silly ass cat, keep your dirty ass off me!"
I broke out laughing to the point of tears. Miss Claudia was ugly but she was funny. I was on the ground laughing after slipping in the mud. Miss Claudia yelled, "Boy, get your dumb ass up, it wasn't that funny. It ain't nothin' that damn funny!"
When I walked into the house Lawrence was getting dressed in the kitchen. His white shirt was lying across the kitchen table and I thought how my grandmother would kill me for that.
"Where are you going?" I asked, confused as to why he had wanted me to come over if he had to go someplace.
"I'm going to church with my mother," he said with disgust.
Lawrence was only a year older than me but seemed older than that due to all the hell he'd been through. He looked just like his mother and he loved her to death. He fought in the 'hood protecting his mother's honor. He didn't like anyone to say anything about Miss Claudia. He was also burdened by her drug addiction and her physical abuse.
"You have to go to church?" I asked.
"Yeah I have to go or my mother would beat my ass."
"Why you tell me to come over here?"
"Because, stupid, I want you to come with me," Lawrence said smiling.
He was smiling because he knew I hated church. Church reminded me of funerals. Anytime I walked past a church I thought about my great-grandmother's funeral. I remember sitting in a long line of cars riding slowly through traffic, being smushed in the back seat between two grieving family members; walking block after block in shoes too big for my feet. Only to walk into the church to see a dead person that didn't look like the person I knew before she died. The thought of the body jumping up out of the coffin horrified me as I approached. The sad music and the screams and the guilt because I couldn't cry were too much for me.
From nowhere Miss Claudia rushed into the kitchen, smacking and punching Lawrence.
"I told you to get ready and stop horse-playing!"
Lawrence tried to get away from her and tripped over the oven door that had been opened to warm the house. The door broke off. He burnt his back and cried even louder and all I could do was watch. I wanted to rescue him. I wanted to call the police. I wanted to run and I wanted to take him with me. I felt like I was being forced to witness a crime. This wasn't the first time I'd seen this and I knew it wasn't going to be the last. Afterwards she would tell me Lawrence couldn't have no more company or tell him to go lick his wounds. That day she didn't say anything.
Lawrence ran upstairs and I stood there frozen, waiting for Miss Claudia to say something or leave the kitchen. She just picked up the oven door, leaned it against the side of the stove and walked out.
When I got to his bedroom, Lawrence was sitting on the edge of his bed, slamming his fist into the palm of his hand and saying, "I'm tired of her, I swear to God!"
Lawrence's bedroom looked like someone had taken a pipe and bashed the walls in. The sky-blue paneling that was left was filthy with crayon and marker drawings. Clothes everywhere, the stereo system in the corner looked as though someone had hit it with a sledgehammer. I sat on the bed beside Lawrence and was stuck by a spring in the mattress.
"What the hell is that?" I yelled as I leaped from the bed.
Lawrence laughed and called me stupid. He said, "I can't wait to get older"—wiping tears from his eyes. "I don't have no mother, no father, no nothing, she don't care!" he said, crying again and pointing at the door.
"Stop talking like that, you got me don't you?"
Lawrence was the only friend I had outside of school. He was like a brother and I looked up to him. He was a source of strength and protection.
I decided to go to church with Lawrence and his family, and all I kept thinking about was how sad it was going to be. While Lawrence was getting dressed, his little sister Angel came into the bedroom. Angel was a little headache who liked to play a lot. She was only seven years old and her mouth was foul.
Angel was skinny, dark-skinned, and had cornrows that made her look like a leading character in The Color Purple. She had on a filthy blue Mickey Mouse shirt and jeans with holes in the knees.
"You going to church like that?" I asked.
"I always go to church like this, don't I Lawrence?"
"Yeah, you go to church looking like Raggedy Ann all the time," Lawrence laughed, pulling on the holes in Angel's pants.
"Stop, stupid, get off before Ma beat you again!" Angel screamed, smacking Lawrence on the top of the head, trying to get him off her pants.
When we were leaving for church, I couldn't help noticing how different Miss Claudia looked. She had on a long white dress with white shoes to match. It was a shock!
"C'mon here, Emanuel, are you all right?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'm all right," I lied.
She must have noticed how scared I was.
- - - - - It was raining harder than when I'd arrived at Lawrence's house. Water was pouring from the gutters of the house next door. We stood in the back door looking at the rain as though it was pouring knives.
"It ain't nothin' but a little rain. C'mon here," Miss Claudia said, stepping out into the weather.
I was walking behind everyone with my head down, counting the concrete blocks in the sidewalk. The water running down my face, the thoughts of funerals, and the sound of Angel's clicking shoes were driving me nuts. I thought things couldn't get any worse.
Miss Claudia started up the stairs of an apartment a couple of houses away from the corner.
"Where are we?" I asked Lawrence.
"This is our church," he said smiling.
"This is not a church, it's a house."
"It's where we go to church at," Lawrence said, pointing as though it was no big deal.
All I could think of was haunted houses and horror movies. The windows had no curtains, the lawn looked as though it had never been cut and the gray and white siding was filthy. The sound of Miss Claudia knocking at the door and the heavy rain beating on the lid of the garbage can almost brought me to tears. I looked down the street toward home. Miss Claudia looked like a zombie as she gestured for us to come on.
As we walked in I heard an older woman greet Miss Claudia, directing her where to hang her jacket. The house smelled of cleanser and burnt plastic. The walls were brown, with pictures of family and paintings of Jesus on the cross, the Last Supper, and others. There was also a large poster of Martin Luther King. The house was empty of furniture except for folding chairs in the living room and a cardboard box sitting in front of the sliding doors leading to the dining room.
We sat in the first row of chairs. There was just Angel, Lawrence, me and Miss Claudia. I took the seat by the window, leaning my head against the wall, peering into the yard of the house next door. I imagined myself being driven away in the pickup truck parked back there.
The dining-room doors opened and a little old lady appeared. She was short with a big wig. The size of the gray wig made her face look like a premature baby's. All you could see were her chin and the glasses she wore. Her cheeks were sucked in, making her lips bulge out of her face. She hummed as she placed a book on the box being used as a podium.
"God bless this morning!" she said, straining to raise her hand.
"Amen, Amen!" Miss Claudia shouted.
"I want to thank you for coming on into the Lord's house. It's always a blessing to see you all and I thank Jesus for ya!"
"We thank Jesus for you, Sis' Ethel!" Miss Claudia shouted.
While Sis' Ethel was speaking another lady pushed a piano on wheels into the room. She was not as old as Sis' Ethel. Her name was Sis' Rose. Sis' Ethel thanked Jesus for her as she rolled in the piano. Once Sis' Rose was settled, she sang a couple of songs that Miss Claudia and Angel knew by heart and sang along. Lawrence spent his time staring at Sis' Ethel as though he couldn't believe this old lady was trying to sing. That singing seemed painful.
Then Sis' Ethel started staring at me. The eyes behind her glasses looked like they were shut. I turned my head. Angel tapped my leg.
"Emanuel, she lookin' at you!"
"I know, stop tappin' me!" I said, brushing Angel's hand away.
The music stopped and I looked up to see Sis' Ethel gesturing for me to come to her. I didn't move. I thought maybe she was making a mistake and thought I was Lawrence. So I turned to look and Lawrence was laughing his heart out. When I stood up, Miss Claudia nodded at me, assuring me that it would be all right and pinching Lawrence's leg.
"What's your name, son?" Sis' Ethel asked with her hand on my shoulder.
"Emanuel," I said.
"Emanuel! Emanuel! Emanuel!" Sis' Ethel shouted, raising her hands in the air.
I was horrified. Here was a woman who had too much skin for her bones. She was shouting and she was spitting all over me. Sis' Rose began playing the piano real hard. I don't think she was even trying to play a particular tune. She just beat on the keys. Miss Claudia was clapping, smiling at me. Angel stared in a state of shock. Lawrence was wrestling with trying not to laugh and wiping his tears from the pinch Miss Claudia put on him.
Sis' Ethel pulled out what I know now to be olive oil. She put some on her finger and made a cross on my forehead. She placed her hand on my head and began shouting, "Praise the Lord, God is with us!"
I didn't understand and I never knew what my name meant until that day. The shouting and the tears rolling down the faces of Sis' Ethel and Sis' Rose made me feel very strange. They were moved by my name but I didn't feel anything. I squeezed my eyes shut and started shaking my head as if trying to shake something off it. I couldn't feel anything different but my actions excited the Sisters even more. Sis' Ethel had her hand inside her green blouse, gripping her chest as though she was having pains. Lawrence had moved to the back of the room away from Miss Claudia's reach. He was smiling and his smile was the only thing that comforted me. Miss Claudia was shaking her head in disbelief. When the music stopped, Sis' Rose was shouting, "Praise Jesus, hollaluya!" Then she spoke some other kind of language, jerking her head back with her hands in the air. Finally, things quieted down.
"Emanuel, where do you live?" Sis' Ethel asked.
"Down the street."
"Will you come back to visit us?"
"Yeah," I said, feeling my conscience ache for lying in church.
"You're a very special boy, you hear?" she said, squeezing my shoulder.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out coins and put them into my hand. Sis' Rose jumped from behind the piano and did the same. I had so many coins they were falling out of my hands. Angel leaped from her seat to get the money. Miss Claudia popped her on the head.
"Give that boy that money, I don't teach you to steal do I?"
When the service was over Miss Claudia kept asking me was I all right. She had a smirk on her face as if I had just robbed the church by claiming my divinity. As we walked down the stairs, Lawrence asked me if I was coming back with them.
"Hell no!" Miss Claudia shouted.
"Why?" Lawrence asked.
"So he can make them muthafuckas more crazy than they already is?"
Lawrence and Angel and I laughed as we walked down the street. We never would understand Miss Claudia.
In front of Lawrence's house we stopped to say our goodbyes. As I walked on, I didn't even notice the broken bottles and shell casings. I had a pocketful of change. The sun was out and the air smelled fresh.
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